


defend the north

by Anonymous



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Robin War (Comics)
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Any Pronouns for Cassandra Cain, Batfamily (DCU), Batfamily Dynamics (DCU), Cassgender Cassandra Cain, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Originally Posted on Tumblr, POV Outsider, TW: Injuries and Gore, Wordcount: 1.000-2.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:14:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25867258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Elaine was glad to be out of the hospital. It had been... a very difficult few months, in recovery. She was grateful, of course, because she was with her son again, but she’d had enough of the staff, many of whom had picked up on her irritation, and some of whom had actually admitted they were glad because if she’d been content at the hospital, they’d be worried.“Sorry, the elevator’s out,” Duke said, glancing over to her. Elaine had spent more time at the hospital than needed, doing physiotherapy, meaning that she wasn’t in a wheelchair anymore. She would be walking into the apartment, not wheeling, but that meant walking was exhausting. Stairs were exhausting. “And it’s the sixth floor.”
Relationships: Batfamily - Relationship, Cassandra Cain & Duke Thomas, No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 56
Collections: Fanfic Anonymous





	defend the north

Elaine was glad to be out of the hospital. It had been... a very difficult few months, in recovery. She was grateful, of course, because she was with her son again, but she’d had enough of the staff, many of whom had picked up on her irritation, and some of whom had actually admitted they were glad because if she’d been content at the hospital, they’d be worried.

“Sorry, the elevator’s out,” Duke said, glancing over to her. Elaine had spent more time at the hospital than needed, doing physiotherapy, meaning that she wasn’t in a wheelchair anymore. She would be walking into the apartment, not wheeling, but that meant walking was exhausting. Stairs were exhausting. “And it’s the sixth floor.”

“It’s alright,” Elaine soothed, even as her stomach churned at the prospect. She reached out for the railing, grasping it tightly, and took her first step, letting out a breath. Duke smiled at her, taking up her free arm, supporting her. She let him, and they began the slow process.

It gave her time to think. She’d had a lot of time to think recently, but she turned said thoughts to her son now. In the past, it had been when she could get out when Duke would come by next, if Doug would wake up, her therapy, her toxin screens. Everything had been in a rush, even if on the outside, it hadn’t felt like it.

He was taller. Which was obvious. But he was more confident as well, stable in his place in the world. And he seemed to have a lot of friends. One had come by more than once while she’d been in the hospital, a Cassandra, who grinned at Elaine, and used sign language and spoke very little. He was sweet.

Duke had spent time texting people. At least, that’s what she’d thought he’d been doing. Fingers flying across his phone screen, dancing out patterns across the back-lit glass. He’d smiled to himself, shown her pictures, most of them of Cass, at the apartment. Cass and him on the chesterfield. Eating. Watching a show.

Her son had found a sister.

“Four more to go,” Duke joked weakly, and she smiled at him. He smiled back, a scar on his lip catching the light. It was a little tear in the skin, vertical, running from slightly below his lower lip, halfway up his upper one. She wasn’t sure how he’d gotten it; there were dozens of reasons that could hold true. Likely - _hopefully_ \- just an accident.

“Two more,” Duke added, and Elaine sighed, leaning against the wall with her shoulder. Duke let go of her arm, fishing out his phone from his pocket, where it’d been making buzzing noises. He answered, holding it to his ear. “Yeah, Cass?”

Elaine couldn’t hear the other end, but Duke could, and he frowned. “Should be in the cupboard. No, not that one. The one by the couch. Hey, my moms here, you’ll stick around to say hi?”

A pause, in which Cass presumably answered the question. Duke grinned. “Cool beans. We’ll be up there in two minutes, give or take. C’ya.”

Duke never used to say _c’ya_. Elaine supposed it was something he’d picked up while she was... gone, and her heart throbbed. Her son hung up, putting the phone away, and took up her arm again, gentle but firm. “Cass is going to meet us upstairs.”

“Why is she here?” Elaine asked, and Duke tensed. Elaine pressed her lips together. She hadn’t meant it like _that_. She wasn’t against the girl, but she’d also been hoping to spend some time alone with her son. The hospital didn’t count; people could walk right in willy-nilly.

“He likes to hang around,” Duke answered, as they turned the corner. “Probably was just in the area, climbed in the window or something. Cass is like that.”

Okay. Ignoring the fact that the apartment was on the sixth floor, that was downright creepy. So Elaine cleared her throat. “How, exactly, do you know Cass?”

“She saved my life,” Duke answered easily, grinning brightly as they started up the final set of stairs. “And I saved hers, I think? She’s pretty kickass. I also think we’re siblings now.”

“Ah.”

They reached the floor and started down the hallway. Duke pulled a key from where it hung around his neck, and jammed it into the lock, twisting and opening the door to reveal Elaine’s old apartment. An apartment that Duke had managed to keep ahold of for all these years.

There was the rug that she’d bought for the mudroom, back before everything, because muck kept getting in every room. There was a new coat rack, and a few pairs of shoes lined up along the wall. Duke called out as he closed the door.

“Cass? Where you at?”

The small Asian girl came running, silent on her feet. Her expression lit up, and she threw herself at Duke, flying through the air, wrapping her arms around him in a hug. He returned the gesture, laughing. “Relax, everything’s fine. Nobody came out of nowhere and drop-kicked us.”

He said the last part with intent, and Cassandra pulled back, looking slightly sheepish. Duke grinned, and set a hand on her back, turning her to face his mother, and Cass stepped forwards, arms out slightly. Elaine glanced at her son, then accepted the hug.

She was a small girl. Thin, wiry, and through her loose, lightweight black shirt, Elaine could feel all the muscle that the girl was packing. She was a dancer, Elaine knew, partially because she came into the hospital room with ballet shoes on, and partially because she’d been overheard Duke asking Cass about it when Elaine had been ‘sleeping’. That was probably where all the muscle came from.

“You cleaned up, right?” Duke asked, and Cass grinned at him, hands flashing through the air. Elaine couldn’t follow; she didn’t know anything about ASL, or sign language in general. She knew that Cass could speak, had overheard the two talking to each other when she was supposed to be asleep, but Cass had never done it in front of her, and Elaine didn’t press. “Great.”

Cass darted down the hallway, and around the corner. Elaine looked to her son, who gestured for her to follow, her bag over his shoulder. She walked after him, blinking in slight surprise at the changes that had been made. There was no more coffee table in the living room, replaced by a rug that only covered a slim section of the floor, and was under the couch, which had been pressed up against a wall. There was one armchair, and the bookshelf was the same.

Cassandra was in the middle of the space, doing a slow spin, arms above her head. Duke clapped for her, and she bowed deeply, grabbing onto Elaine’s wrist, and tugging her towards the bedrooms.

“I left your room alone,” Duke said, while Cass pushed open the door, and flicked on the lights. “Cleaned it, but I didn’t touch anything. Just in case there was something important. I changed the office though, Cass sleeps there sometimes, when she’s not squishing me.”

Cass smirked, sitting down on the bed, and tucking her feet under her, hands at her sides, supporting her on the mattress, and she tilted her head at Duke, who waved her away. She leaned back, out of the way of his hands, as Elaine sunk into the armchair by the closet, simply watching.

Duke scowled at her in that way that she’d seen kids at school do sometimes, when they were playing games, and reached for her stomach, poking at her abs. Cass let out a shriek of laughter, throwing herself backwards, out of the way of his hands, feet flutter-kicking at him as she rolled onto her back.

Duke cried out, lunging for her again, and peels of laughter filled the air. Elaine sunk back into her chair, watching the pair.

Alright. Maybe Cass was a bit strange. Maybe she climbed through windows, and just maybe, _maybe_ , she’d drop-kicked Duke at some point. But the way the two of them were interacting, the laughter and giggles filling the air, the squirming and wheezing of happiness?

Elaine could reserve judgement for when she really figured out this girl. For now, she was happy to just live in the moment, and listen to her son laugh. So different than before, yet somehow familiar.

* * *

Duke wakes up to Cassandra, curled up at his side, a warm spot amid the chill that nightmares always give him. He doesn’t have to say anything, and Cassandra sits up, letting him hide in her arms. He is _so_ glad neither of them are screamers, because his mother, while not a light sleeper, isn’t a heavy sleeper either. And screaming would alert her to the fact that he, and Cass, were keeping secrets from her.

It’s not really a situation their family has from across before. Their aunts did, obviously, but they were flirting as Batwoman and Question and dating as Kate and Renee. His mother isn’t a vigilante. The rest of them don’t have a similar set-up. Tim’s two beats away from just disowning his parents, media be dammed, Stephanie’s estranged from both of her’s, Harper and Cullen left their abuser. Barbara’s situation is the only real reference he has, but her dad is Jim Gordon and he pretends that he doesn’t know. It’s a bit different.

“I’m good,” Duke says finally, laying back down. Cass’s weight shifts and the bedside light turns on. She wants to talk then, but isn’t in the mindset for speaking aloud; lights don’t help either of them sleep, only familiar places and people do. “What’s up?”

“Your mother thinks we’re...” Cass’s hand's pause, her face screwing up in a mixture of disgust and amusement. “Fuck buddies.”

Duke silently takes the pillow from behind his head, and covers his face with it. That’s disgusting. So gross.

He can get why his mom thinks that. Cass, with their family members and people close to her, is an affectionate person, especially with him. And his mother hasn’t met any of their other siblings yet, just Renee, as she was the one who legally took care of him during the coma.

Still. Disgusting.

Cass pulls the pillow away so that he can read her signs, and frowns at him. “Will you tell her?”

“Would you?”

“I don’t know,” she admits, conflict visible in her expression and signs. “But it’s not my choice.”

“It’d affect all of us,” he says, and it’s true. There’s a reason so few people in the League know who Bruce is. You learn one name, and the rest are glaring at you right in the face. It’s a gag order they all obey, without question.

It’s not that he can’t tell her, but it’s been made clear that unless there’s no avoiding it, maintaining the secret and giving his mother plausible deniability, is the priority.

“Yes,” Cassandra signs, the exhales, laying down and resting her cheek over his heart. He arranged the blankets around them as best he can, resting a hand on her shoulder.

“Lights?”

Cassandra nods, and he reaches out, obeying.

* * *

“Shit, shit, shit,”

“No cursing,” Orphan mumbles, her voice startling Signal. She’s been very quiet the past few weeks, and she’s usually quieter in uniform, so it’s a bit of a shock to hear her speak.

“Shut up, you’re hurt.”

Orphan is hanging off Signal’s back, as her knee got blown up - not literally - and she’s got a bullet in her shoulder. She’s not walking ‘till they know the damage.

Batman has a meeting with the League. The twins are puking their guts out under Red Hood’s supervision, while Robin and Nightwing are in Blüdhaven, while Batwoman and Question are on a civilian date, so it’s just been the Blues, Signal, and Orphan.

Oracle is sleeping, for once.

“Almost there.”

Orphan doesn’t say anything, which would be concerning if it was anyone but Orphan. Signal takes the second to last jump, grunting with the effort. The impact is mostly absorbed by his armour, but what isn’t slams into his ankles, knees, and hips, in that order.

Rising up, he sprints across the rooftop, splashing through the puddle gathered on the uneven tiles, reaching the far edge.

“Hang on,”

Orphan obediently tightens her grip, and Signal jumps. He grabs the edge of the fire escape, legs swinging. He halts the swinging motion, and drops, landing on the railing, then climbing down. The window is easy to pick, and they enter the living room.

Duke drops Cass on the couch and goes for the first aid kit. He pulls his faceplate off, dropping it on the counter as he goes, the rest of the cowl folding up into his suit as per it’s engineering. On the way back, he hits the light switch with his elbow and falls to his knees beside Cass.

In the span of time he left her alone for - under twenty seconds - she’s got the chest plate that clamps on over her shoulder blades and back off, and the hidden zipper down her front is undone, revealing a black underarmour shirt, like the ones some hockey players use that have the neck guards built-in.

Duke helps her wiggle out of the sleeves, taking off the flexible plating and gloves so they can do it, and pulling the tightly-woven Kevlar bodysuit away from her shoulders.

The bullet is lodged in the bit of flesh at the front of her armpit, meaning she took the shot with her arm extended, as that’s the only time it’s exposed like that. It’s not deep, and he can see the glint of the metal, stained by blood, shallow thanks to the Kevlar slowing it.

Duke unzips the medical kit and puts it on the couch beside Cass, who uses her good arm to flip through the different layers, searching for a local. She doesn’t need one, but they have one. They should use it.

While she does that, Duke tears his gloves off, the armour clicking back into his forearms - he’s like some kind of Iron Man, he reflects with a slight edge of hysteria because this is the first time he’s dealt with something like this on his own. He tears the airtight bag Cass passes him open and exhales.

His fingers stand out as they brush her skin, dark against light, because that’s what they are. She’s silver, he’s gold. Sun and moon. Yin and yang. They’re not opposites, like how some of those things are seen as, but complementary.

He finds an injection point, inhales, holds it so he’s steady, and slides the needle in, pressing down on the plunger and withdrawing it all within a moment, holding his breath like Jason taught him to when they go to the range.

He doesn’t need to use a tool to pry the bullet out, it’s so shallow, but he probably should have, in retrospect. At the moment, he doesn’t think of it, placing his thumbs on either side of the entry point, and pressing in, and towards each other, like he’s popping a pimple.

Cass either doesn’t care or doesn’t remember they have tools, because she doesn’t stop him, staring at his left ear intently enough that she might just gain heat vision.

The bullet pops out, with a fair amount of blood, and bounces off Cass’s knee, hitting the carpet. It’s a little voice in the back of his head that remarks how lucky they are that it hit her good knee. He doesn’t want to do more damage, and he’s also fairly sure he’d be having a panic attack right now if not for his medical training. Every time he’s done medical, there’s been a senior there, a veteran ready to give orders and guide him.

“What in the seven hell’s is going on?”

Duke, had he been holding something, would have dropped it, but he’s not. As it is, he has bigger problems, namely the bullet wound that’s gushing blood. Cass is trying to use her shirt to staunch it, but they need to get her out of it.

Duke makes a choice without realizing it, grabbing his phone off the coffee table. He’s got blood on his hands, and it streaks across the silver and gold and black case like sick finger paint. “She’s bleeding. Call Renee.”

“She needs a doctor.”

Training kicks in, again. Duke levels a full-force glare at his mother, almost snarling as he uses the voice he used the one time he was Red Hood. “Call. Renee.”

She does.

Duke gets Cass to lean forwards, not needing to speak, and he unzips the back of her shirt, the Velcro neck guard strap coming apart easily. He’d cut it if he was thinking straight, but he’s not.

They pull it off, leaving Cass in the lower half of her armour, and a black bra that has a bat on it, because of course, aesthetic. Duke’s certain he’s gotta more dramatic since he joined the family.

By the time he’s sewn Cass’s shoulder up, and got a pressure bandage tapped on, Renee and Kate are there, Kate in a red dress that has a slit in the side and a black bomber jacket, hair done up all nice, and Renee, in makeup for once, and a skirt and blouse combo, the two of them looking like the power couple they are.

Duke releases his iron grip on his training, and falls back, right into Kate, who’s arms wrap around him from behind, pulling him in close. Renee’s stripping Cass down, cutting her legging with a pocket knife, revealing her knee.

It’s bad. So bad. Duke heaves, but slams his mouth shut, bile rising in his throat, tears burning. He swallows the vomit back down, as it didn’t get far, and it’s so gross.

“We need Leslie,” Renee confirms. “Get changed.”

Duke, is _great_ at following orders. It’s a relief to be told what the plan is, he never wants to be in charge like this before.

Cass is helped into one of his zip-up hoodies, and a skirt that she might actually belong to Stephanie or maybe Cullen, as her knee, the moment it wasn’t constrained by the suit and her knee-pads and the armour, began to swell.

Leslie is no more surprised than usual to see them, and orders ice, an x-ray, and a report. Duke’s training snaps back into place, and he’s sure it terrifies his mother, how he recites the details of the accident in military precision, date, time, location, what he’s done since, in a curt manner, before Kate is helping Leslie wheel Cass into the x-ray room, Renee setting up a morphine drip.

“Signal?” his mother asks quietly, as they wait in the hall, sitting in those white plastic chairs you see all the time but everyone hates because they suck. One woman, a nurse, gives them a nasty glare, and Duke, who was up all last night, and is not in the mood, returns, four times as intense. She books it for the desk at the end of the hall.

“Yeah.”

“Orphan?”

“Yeah.”

“The rest of them?”

“Batwoman and Question.”

His mother curses without using curse words, all fudge and fiddlesticks and sugar and replacing words, and Duke leans back, trying not to cry. Usually, a sibling is here. But the Blues are on a stakeout and Jason -

“Hey, kid.”

A travel mug of something warm is pressed into his hands, and Duke knows it’s tea. Jason’s been waging a war against coffee and energy drinks and anything similar at his and Tim’s apartment, done with Tim’s self-imposed insomnia, and he’s not a hot chocolate person.

“Thanks.”

“Twin’s passed out at long last,” Jason says, lowering himself into the chair beside Duke. He’s in jeans and his usual jacket, smelling like cigarette smoke, even though he doesn’t smoke - Renee’s the only one who does, and that’s rarely. The last time was when Kate nearly died on that mission in Bialyia and was in surgery for sixteen hours. Duke was tempted to ask for one himself, but he was in DARE in sixth grade, and he saw the jar of the tar that builds up, and he decided he was fine with cartoons. “What happened?”

“Some guy on Venom. Kicked her knee out, she took one to the shoulder. I booked it.”

Jason whistles. “Hell of a night. Isn’t even happy hour.”

Duke scoffs. “Yeah.”

Jason then seems to notice Duke’s mother. Duke knows that he’s been aware of her presence the entire time, but that Duke himself was the priority.

Jason leans over Duke’s lap, offering her his hand to shake. His mother has always been polite, taught him the same, which was mostly undone by his siblings, and she takes it confidently.

“I’m Jason. Adoptive brother.”

He doesn’t clarify that he means that he’s Cass and Duke’s brother. Duke doesn’t think he can handle his mother being directly confronted with her son's new family after the events of the past hour.

“Elaine.”

“If I’d known you’d be here, I’d have brought you something,” Jason says, settling back into his chair. “Kate didn’t mention it though.”

“It’s fine.”

Duke sighs. His mother has been side-eyeing Jason since he sat down, and it’s grating on his nerves. “He’s Red Hood.”

She nods stiffly, and Jason does too. “I’m... it’s complicated.”

The lady from before, who’s got a clipboard in hand, and is glaring at the trio as she marches past - it’s not hard to figure out why, she’s white and out of the three of them, two are black and one is mixed - scrams the moment Jason levels his glare at her. Duke relaxes minutely.

“Renee’s faking papers,” he says quietly, under the clicking of crutches, not sure when he picked up that detail, but knowing that it’s true. “Kate’s with her.”

“How bad.”

“Really bad.”

Jason swears.

* * *

Elaine woke up to a scream and footsteps. She found the source in the living room, where Duke had been sleeping, and where Jason had pinned her son to the ground. Beside Elaine, Cass hadn't even grabbed her crutch, the leg that wore a cast held above the ground. She'd been doing the bunny-hop method of getting around, which she'd been told off for doing at the clinic.

Jason didn't say anything as Duke panted, and Cass didn't either, which wasn't unusual.

Duke went limp under Jason, who let out a huff, and tolled away from her son, both of them sitting up. Jason ran a hand through his hair, combing back the black and white, which immediately went back to its previous position when he let go. "This is why I don't stay over, you didn't fucking soundproof nothing."

Jason, Elaine had figured out, was protective. He'd carried Cass all the way up to the apartment without hesitation, he'd been told by Katherine Kate - Batwoman, holy mother of - that No, he Could Not go Stab Them, Cass Needed Someone with Medical Experience, Jason, You're Staying with Her. (The capitalization had been audible.)

"We're not screamers," Duke said, reaching a hand up to steady Cass, who'd bunny-hopped her way over to the couch. She dropped down onto it with a grunt, and laud down in the mess of blankets that Dume had been sleeping in. Cass passed out. "Didn't see the point."

Jason squinted at Duke in the light from the hallway. Unlike Duke, who was in old sweatpants and a shirt, his pyjamas, Jason was still dressed like he could head out at any second, jacket and all.

"You're gonna throw up."

"I'm not -" Duke started to say, but gave up. Jason was already on his feet, heading to the kitchen, plastic bucket in hand.

"The knee?"

Duke promptly vomited, which answered that question fairly well. Elaine, who, up until that point, had been frozen in the hallway, stumbled her way into an armchair, staring as Jason rubbed circles into her sons back.

"Yeah," Duke mumbled, once he'd stopped puking and dry heaving. "I can't -"

Jason took the bucket from him, and Duke hid his face in his hands. Jason headed back to the kitchen, and Elaine heard the tap run. Jason came back, passing Duke the bucket, and sat down on the edge of the couch. His fingers trailed over Cassandra's palm, and she grumbled something, latching onto his fingers and nuzzling against the back of his hand.

Elaine was fairly sure they knew she was there, but that her confusion and worry wasn't the priority. She was also fairly sure she was in shock. It had been a long however-many-hours.

"I might be able to help."

"Please."

Using his free hand, Jason pulled out a small tin from the inside of his jacket, like a breath mint tin, but a bit bigger. He flipped it open with his thumb and held it out to Duke.

"Thought you didn't smoke."

Jason balanced the tin on his knee, pulling out a dart and blue pocket lighter. He held them out to Duke, both objects pinched between his fingers. "Medical marijuana."

Duke took the dart from Jason and managed to use the lighter to light one end. Hesitantly, he held the dart up to his lips and started to cough right away.

"Didn't they teach you how to use these?" Jason asked, taking the lighter from Duke.

"Cass didn't know what a cigarette is for until we read the Outsiders -"

"I hated that book."

"Fuck you, it was great, you just have no taste."

"You wouldn't know taste if it punched you in the face."

"- and Bruce has a strong no substances rule."

"Steph doesn't."

"She smokes?"

"Not recreationally," Jason said, lighting the dart for Duke. "She has a tin like mine, uses it when she can't sleep, taught Tim how."

Duke didn't cough the second time, but his eyes watered, and he smudged the end of the dart out in the tin, dropping it inside. "That's horrible, I hate it."

"Yeah," Jason snapped the tin shut and put it away. "Helps the stress though."

"Not stress, nightmares."

"Helps those too."

"You'd know."

"Yup."


End file.
